Thick and smothering
And it goes on forever
You blindly stumble onwards
Possibly forwards although you\'re not sure
Anyone would loose their bearings in a place like this
You stumble to the ground
Hard and sharp
You cut your palms and knees
And the webbing between your fingers
Scarlet bleeds into grey
But its lost as you reach out a hand
Looking for something to grab onto
But there\'s nothing there
Cold and empty
The space it fills
Your fingers brush naught but rotting damp and raspy breath
While the sky above is swallowed by the nothing
There\'s fog
So much fog
Sometimes though you catch a glimpse
Of something in the distance
A thing
It\'s made of shapes
You could lean on it
Rest you weary bones if you get close
It reminds you
It reminds you that you can see
Most of the time though there\'s just fog